Commiseration
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Duke Devlin has left Domino City for a while to clear his mind following a near-nervous breakdown. Among the unusual characters he meets when he settles in the Gardena area of Los Angeles is a man who is also struggling with guilt over past mistakes. Part of a possible new series of oneshots.


**Yu-Gi-Oh!/Perry Mason**

**Commiseration**

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This is an experiment, another possible outcome for Duke Devlin following my story **_**Lead Me Through the Fire**_**, as well as an examination of a character from the **_**Perry Mason**_** episode**_** The Singing Skirt.**_** His confession was so vague, and the discussion surrounding it in the epilogue left open some other interpretations, so since I love finding loopholes, I took the challenge.**

Duke Devlin had certainly met some unique people when he had left Domino City at the brink of a nervous breakdown and in need of finding something new to occupy his mind and his thoughts.

His travels had taken him down to a little area in Los Angeles where legal gambling abounded. One skill he had never quite fully developed was that of playing games of chance, mostly with dice but sometimes with cards. But he found, somewhat to his own surprise, that he was good at it.

Others noticed, too. And Joseph "Slim" Marcus, an ex-convict trying to rebuild his damaged life, had hired him for his casino. Duke was a well-known character, and with his newfound skills at the tables, he was drawing in the crowds.

Duke liked Slim. There was a darkness and cynicism to him that Duke could relate to. He wasn't sure what Slim had done that had landed him behind bars, but Duke imagined that it had definitely played a large part in why Slim was the way he was.

Tony Earle was another casino manager in the area. He had also been in jail, but he spoke outright about the reason (illegal gambling). He was running a completely legal operation now, just as Slim was.

Tony wasn't quite as refined in his speech as Slim was, but he was friendlier. Sometimes he wandered over to visit with Slim, and when he did, he talked with Duke as well. He seemed to be honestly interested in what Duke was up to.

"You got yourself a good boy, Slim," he said. "I just wish I'd seen him first." And he raised his glass and toasted Duke.

It was one night when Duke was feeling especially discouraged and depressed that he lingered long after the place closed. Slim, who seemed likewise to be brooding over something, let him. He sat at the bar, continuing to pour himself drink after drink.

"You look like you could use one of these too, kid," he remarked presently.

Duke glanced up with a start. "Oh . . . thanks," he acknowledged. "But I . . . I'm not twenty-one yet."

Slim grunted. "Nevermind that, then. Forget I said anything. That's all I need, to be charged with offering alcohol to a minor."

Duke shifted position to face him while resting an elbow on the table. "What happened to you anyway, Slim?" he wondered curiously. "I mean, what got you in prison?"

Slim regarded him with a vaguely entertained look. "What do you think it was?"

"I don't know," Duke frowned. "I mean, Tony Earle doesn't have any problem with saying that he was arrested for illegal gambling. And that doesn't seem so bad, really. So I figure that it must have been something worse with you."

Slim laughed—a dry, dull, matter-of-fact laugh. "You _are_ good," he said. "Do you make a habit of picking everyone apart or just us jailbirds?"

Duke shrugged. "I have to be good at observing people when I'm working for you," he said. "I don't want to get taken."

"Hmm. Good point." Slim downed the contents of the shot glass and then leaned on the bar with one elbow, still turning the empty glass around in his hand.

"You're right," he said at last. "Well, there was a charge of illegal gambling too, but that was the least of my worries. You see, I killed someone."

Duke almost dropped his dice. "What?!"

Slim snarked. "I get all kinds of reactions when I talk about it. Your kind is the most entertaining."

"Look, what do you mean, you killed someone?" Duke frowned. He set the dice aside and leaned forward. "Was it an accident? Did you do it on purpose?!"

"No, it wasn't on purpose. Even though I felt guilty enough about it that it could have been." Slim studied the glass a bit longer and then set it aside. "This lady and I were going to run away with the money I'd bilked from her husband in an illegal poker game. Only my boss took the money from me before I could do a thing about it. The lady was angry and threatened to expose my actions to him. When I protested, she pulled a gun on me. We struggled, and it went off. And then she was dead."

"But that was self-defense," Duke protested. "What did they expect you to do if she was trying to kill you?"

"My lawyer was able to get me off on Self-Defense," Slim nodded. "No, the reason why I was in prison was because of what I did after that. I panicked, not thinking clearly at all, and I tried to frame someone else for the crime. So I served time for obstructing justice, tampering with evidence, etcetera, etcetera."

He reached for the bottle. "I liked the girl, too. The one I tried to frame, I mean. I only picked her because she'd already had a problem with the lady and it would be believable for her to have done it."

Duke frowned. "And now you regret what you did to her?"

Slim nodded. "She and I were sort of friendly, at least for a while. Of course, it's too late to make any sort of amends. She'd never forgive me. Her new husband certainly wouldn't forgive me and probably wouldn't even let me talk to her."

He laughed, again without humor. "Funny thing, you know. If I'd just kept calm and reported everything to the police in the first place, the worst thing that would have happened would have been the illegal gambling charge. Well, that, and trying to con the guy."

"It just takes a split-second decision to change everything," Duke said. "And it's worse if you have time to think and still pick the wrong path."

Slim looked to him. "If I'm sharing my story, what about you, Devlin? I know you've got a burden on your shoulders too. I sensed it the first time you walked in. And you made it clear again just now."

Duke sighed, averting his gaze. ". . . I caused someone's death too," he admitted.

Slim raised an eyebrow. "You? How? Not through that silly card game you played, I hope."

Duke managed a smirk. News of the freak accidents involving Duel Monsters games gone wrong always found their way around.

"Nah, it had nothing to do with that," he said honestly. "I just . . ." He shook his head. "I was in trouble and I needed help to get out of it. I hadn't wanted to get anyone involved because I was afraid they'd get hurt, but after I was almost killed, I was hurt bad and desperate. I went to the one person who'd always been there for me. And he threw himself into trying to help me get out of the mess, but . . ." He clenched a fist. "We were in over our heads. He was killed before it was over."

Slim was somber now. "What kind of mess was it?" he asked.

"Drug smugglers were using my shop as their drop," Duke said bitterly.

"Why didn't you just get the police?" Slim wondered.

"I didn't know who to get." Duke glared at the table. "There was one cop that I knew was part of the ring, but I didn't know who. So I could've got him or her when I went for help."

"That is a problem," Slim said.

"If I'd never involved my friend, he'd be alive today," Duke said.

"And you'd probably be dead," Slim mused. "Your friend might very well be sorrowing over you as you're sorrowing over him now."

"Yeah, I've thought about that," Duke frowned. "I'd never want him to go through this. But I don't want him to be dead, either." He picked up the dice and threw them hard on the table. "If there was just a machine that could turn back time, that would solve everything."

"Maybe," said Slim. "But only if you could find a way to only change his death and nothing else. Otherwise, who knows what important things you might erase?"

Duke sighed in frustration. "I've thought about that, too. But time-travel isn't possible anyway, so it's pointless to think about it at all."

"And yet we do anyway. If I could change all those things I did, I would." Slim stared into the distance. "At the same time, I wonder where I'd be now if they hadn't happened."

"I know where I'd be," Duke muttered. "With my friend." But he stiffened almost as soon as he had said it.

Slim noticed. "But?" he prompted.

Duke shook his head. ". . . The other thing that's so messed-up about this situation is that I took him for granted a lot. My dad, well . . . he always preached against friendship and said it was weak and useless. And so I . . . I was closed-off and didn't even always think of my friend _as_ my friend. And then he was gone and I realized what I'd had and what I'd done." He clenched a fist. "And there's nothing I can do to make it right."

Slim thought about it. "There is _one_ thing you could do," he said. "Live the way your friend would have wanted you to live."

Duke drew a shaking breath. "Yeah," he said. "I tried that. But I couldn't bring myself to get a new manager for my store, so I was doing his job as well as mine. And I did that until I burned out. I realized I had to get away from everything—the store, the people, the town—before I had a complete meltdown. That's why I came here."

"And has it helped you any?"

Duke paused, thinking about that. "A little, yeah. I really did need to get away, clear my mind for a while."

Slim nodded in approval. "Then maybe eventually you'll figure out what else you need to do to have peace with yourself." He poured himself one last drink. "To friendships that weren't explored enough or acknowledged in time."

"I'll drink to that." Duke poured a glass of ice water from the courtesy pitcher still on the table.


End file.
